Duels Are Dumb And Immature
by jonrock411
Summary: The morning of July 11, 1804, two men met on a cliffside to settle a long-standing animosity. One man was set in his intentions, but the other...the other was plagued with thoughts as he prepared for what would be his final moments.


The morning air was crisp as Hamilton walked toward the spot they had both chosen on the hill, the rocky cliffside around them. Burr's eyes burrowed into his back, piercing through him like two hellish spears. The cliffs of the Palisades seemed to tower above them, the judgemental eyes of God on this sinful display. Well, the judgemental eyes of William Deas who owned the property, Hamilton mused to himself. Nathaniel Pendelton walked alongside him, keeping his eyes out for anybody who might see them in the dawning light. Pendelton was a good man, but as a judge and lawyer, he was well aware of the illegality of dueling. He had told Philip that "Everything was legal in New Jersey", but the truth was much more complicated. However "Everything is not as illegal in New Jersey" just didn't have the right ring to it.

Philip's duel was here as well, he realized with a start. Reaching the spot, he let out a deep sigh as he glanced at one of the many trees that dotted the cliffside. Philip had been his fault, like many of the problems in his life. He was a flawed man, too proud to admit he was, but that only proved his failings. Whatever Eacker said, it was probably warranted. You made many enemies when you're forced to climb your way to the top, Eacker had just been the latest. After all, Burr wasn't the first person to duel him. Gordon, Burke, Mercer, Nicholson, Monroe, even his excellency Governor Clinton had dueled him. Of course, they went about it in the typical way. Disputes died, no one shot. However, Philip had way too much of him in his blood. He was hot-headed, protective of his name, reckless. That recklessness had cost Philip his life.

Hamilton had spent his entire life looking for a way to be more than what he was. He was an immigrant, poor, he had no name, no lands, no money. It had taken the fury of God and the goodwill of people to even give him a chance and he had made the most of it. He was someone now, that much was true. However, what had it cost him. His son was dead. Laurens was dead. His walks with Eliza were cold, quiet, she had forgiven him, yes, but things like that were not so easily repaired. Angelica's forgiveness had yet to come. He wished he could've forgone this, stayed with Eliza. He couldn't, though. He couldn't return to her, a dishonorable coward. She deserved better.

Next to him, Pendelton loaded the pistol, a gift from Angelica's husband, as he glanced at Hamilton. "Are we to have the hair spring set?", he asked, indicating the special hair trigger present on the weapons.

"No..not this time", Hamilton replied with hesitation. The right thing to do was to throw away his shot, but perhaps Burr wasn't worth doing so. The man was a moral-less snake, watching, waiting, biding his time until it was suitable to move in without getting his hands dirty. He knew as well as Hamilton that he didn't deserve public office. Did Burr actually think he deserved to be President? The country would've fallen to ruin if he had won. Jefferson was flawed, yes, but he wasn't without some merit. He and Burr stood back to back, as the light bounced off the river into Hamilton's eyes. He squinted as he tried to look in despite of it, but it was too much. "Hold, in certain states of light, one requires glasses"

Hamilton checked the trigger as he held the pistol out towards Burr, imagining the ball piercing through Burr's slimy grin as Burr choked to death on his blood. As he did so, he remembered the words he himself had spoke about an earlier duel to the one of the few men that Hamilton consented was better than he.

 _"John should have shot him in the mouth"_

Ah, but would Laurens been able to live with himself if he did? Laurens was a good man, a much better man than he deserved to be. Laurens had been satisfied with mere wounding, and Lee was much worse than Burr had ever been. It was a relief when he had done everyone a favor and died a couple years after his duel with Laurens. Unfortunately, Laurens died that same year, and with him, part of Hamilton. They say every death takes away part of your soul. His mother, Laurens, Washington, Philip, there may not be much of his soul left. To damn it now would be the mark of a weaker man. No, he would not shoot Burr. The plan was same as before, he will miss. He only hoped Burr understood.

He turned to glance at Burr who glared at him with pure unadulterated hatred. Long gone was the friendly nervousness of their first meeting. A thin bead of sweat ran down Hamilton's face as he swallowed his nervousness, letting it sit like a weight in his stomach. The time was fast approaching.

"Are you both ready?" Pendelton asked, as both men answered in the affirmative. Hamilton lifted his pistol, Burr matching his movement exactly. Hamilton looked at a tree beyond Burr, aiming for a spot on it's bark right above Burr's ear. Surely this would be enough to satisfy Burr's need for a duel. He pulled the trigger, as the ball burst out in an explosion of smoke and flame, flying towards Burr.

Burr's ball entered his rib, fire spreading throughout his body. Hamilton tried to stand, rising up briefly before the wound forcibly grabbed his attention with another spasm of pain. He fell to the ground hard, tremors of agony coursing through his body as Hamilton hesitantly touched the wound. The light touch felt as if someone had driven a knife into his side and his hand came away with the bright red color that he had seen many time before on the battlefield.

He could only barely make out Pendelton calling for the doctor as his vision started to fade, "I am a dead man" he spoke softly, as it faded entirely. Ghosts filled his sight as he started to drift away.

 _Tell Eliza I'll wait for her. It's quiet uptown...she'd like it uptown._


End file.
